


Flu-Bug

by guineamania



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Flu, Fluff, M/M, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3459311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineamania/pseuds/guineamania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is missing Grantaire but only Jehan knows what is wrong with everyone's favourite drunkard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flu-Bug

"Hey, Jehan!" Enjolras shouted, jogging out of the doors to the Musain after his friend. Jehan stopped when he was unlocking his car and lent on it, waiting for the running blonde. "Have you seen Grantaire lately? He hasn't been to meetings this week," Enjolras asked, trying not to sound as concerned as he felt. He pretended not to care but really he couldn't wait for their daily arguments and loved the interaction with the drunkard. Grantaire had never missed a meeting before this week; something must have been wrong and if anyone would know it would be Jehan.  
"Yeah, he's really sick. He was in hospital over the weekend and is bedridden at the moment," Jehan confessed with a long sigh. Enjolras felt his heart stop. Grantaire, ill, why had no one told him about this? He could have helped, he could have done something. Anything.  
"Can, can I come?" Enjolras asked, trying to restore his stoic exterior before Jehan noticed him falter.  
"Yeah sure," the little poet beamed, opening the car door. "I'm sure R will love to see someone other than me today," he added before getting behind the wheel. Enjolras hopped in, throwing his bag onto the backseat before Jehan pulled away from the curb.  
"So what's wrong with him then?" Enjolras asked, trying to remain indifferent despite his shaking hands.  
"He had serious pneumonia and is still recovering. He has a varying fever and some difficulty breathing. His aunt, Courfeyrac's mother, is looking after him while I'm out," Jehan explained as he fought through the evening rush hour traffic.  
"Courf and 'Taire are cousins?" Enjolras exclaimed at the poet's statement.  
"Yeah…didn't you know?" Jehan asked with one eyebrow raised in confusion and shock. "They told us when Courfeyrac first introduced Grantaire," Jehan added as an afterthought and the sped through Grantaire's neighbourhood. Enjolras hated coming to this end of town; it was where all the drug dealers and generally shady individuals lived. Grantaire's apartment block was falling down. The walls were crumbling with bricks missing and at least half of the windows were just wooden blocks. Enjolras could feel the hairs on his arms standing on end as Jehan pulled the car to a stop. He had never been in Grantaire's apartment before.  
The pair hurried inside, out of the dangerous darkness, in the warm light. Even though Jehan spent all his spare time either with Grantaire or his elder cousin, the little poet still hurried through the twisting corridors of Grantaire's apartment building. However when Jehan unlocked Grantaire's door, the revolutionary was pleasantly surprised. Grantaire had quite a spacious loft with loads of windows and the whole apartment was spotless. He had expected a tiny room with takeaway wrappers and beer bottles everywhere not this. "Come in Enj, I'll put the kettle on," Jehan smiled as Enjolras stepped into the apartment behind him.  
"Jehan darling!" a soft voice called from the back room. Jehan pulled two cups out of the cupboard and switched on the kettle before darting off, leaving Enjolras stranded in Grantaire's kitchen/living space. A few minutes later, while Enjolras was still stood around awkwardly, an old woman left Grantaire's bedroom. "Hey honey, can I make you some tea?" the woman asked walking into the kitchen and rummaging in the cupboards.  
"Um, yeah, sure, um thanks," Enjolras responded, watching her. She was clearly around fifty but moved with the grace of a much younger woman. She suddenly spun round the counter to face Enjolras.  
"I am so rude; I completely forgot to introduce myself!" She exclaimed in a sweet soft voice that Enjolras instantly trusted. His mother was never the best mother. She was a perfect wife to his father; always throwing dinner parties and entertaining guests. She didn't care about her only son. "I'm Clara de Courfeyrac, Robin's mother and little Nicolas' aunt," she smiled, embracing him softly. It was not often you saw someone looking so caring and in love over Grantaire. "And you must be the Julien, Nic is always talking about," she chuckled.  
"Aunt Clara!" a croaking voice exclaimed from the doorway. Grantaire stood there blushing and glaring at his aunt. The drunkard was wrapped up in multiple duvets with his skin as white as porcelain and he looked equally fragile. His eyes were sunken and rimmed with black. He attempted to step forwards but hacking coughs shook his body from the core. All three visitors rushed over, helping their pained charge to the settee. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped leaving tear tracks down the side of his face. Jehan darted off and hurriedly returned with a damp cloth to gently cool his best friend's forehead. Enjolras softly negotiated Grantaire's head back onto the pillow while speaking softly to him. Enjolras' seemed to sooth Grantaire even when he was spurting nonsensical rubbish. Before long the sick Grantaire was fast asleep once again, leaving Jehan and Enjolras to tend for his unconscious form. "Julien, sweetie, can I talk to you for a moment?" Clara asked softly. Enjolras looked over at the drunkard's trembling form before deciding to go. Grantaire would be in safe hands with Jehan. Enjolras slowly got to his feet and walked into the open plan kitchen with Clara. "My little Nic loves you Julien," Clara whispered as soon as Enjolras stepped into the spotless kitchen. His eyes shot wider and mouth opened slightly. What was she talking about? Grantaire hated him; they argued all the time and could never be in the same room without irritating each other. But Enjolras never wanted it to change. The Musain had been quiet while Grantaire was ill; Enjolras was constantly stopping after every statement, waiting for a witty cynical remark from the corner. Maybe it was something more that Enjolras felt for Grantaire. "Look after him," Clara nodded, realising Enjolras' feelings before Enjolras himself had managed to. He loved the drunkard.  
XXX  
Clara left that evening leaving the two young men to babysit a grumpy and incredibly clingy Grantaire. Enjolras had been trying to get up for the past quarter of an hour but the task was proving difficult because of the stubborn twenty two year old laid on his chest. "Grantaire, I need to get up," Enjolras exclaimed, exasperated with the drunk's lack of cooperation.  
"Noo, Enjy soft," Grantaire shook his head. Enjolras rolled his head and kissed the top of his new boyfriend's forehead.  
"Jehan will you please get Grantaire's medicine as this flu-bug refuses to move," Enjolras teased as he massaged Grantaire's shoulders. The ill drunkard sunk into the touch, letting out a relieved moan that made Enjolras' heart flutter. Maybe spending time caring for Grantaire wouldn't be as bad as he though; Enjolras smiled to himself as Frozen, the Disney film of Grantaire's choice, began. This could be a good week or so.


End file.
